


system restore

by iwouldcurseworldsforyou



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, hardcore angst, mayhem twins bonding, root's really gone in this one guys i'm sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7658914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwouldcurseworldsforyou/pseuds/iwouldcurseworldsforyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>system restore: bringing a system to an operable condition after a disaster so that it can again accept and process data.</p>
            </blockquote>





	system restore

**Author's Note:**

> sorry, but root's really gone in this one. welcome to the angst train that kept me up till four am.

root's absence feels like a bruise. shaw almost smiles. it's just like root to leave her mark on shaw one last time before she left.  
  
shaw has to think of it that way. leaving. like it's a temporary state of being. like root's really coming back one day.  
  
and who is shaw to say that she won't. god's running on stolen ps3's apparently. maybe the dead can rise too. shaw did, it only seems fair that root should as well.  
  
maybe she just needs some more time.  
  
they've always just needed a bit more time.  
  
just a few more seconds really.  
  
john finds shaw curled under the covers in roots cot in the subway, strange bat pillow clutched tightly to her chest. the tension in her hands makes his own ache.  
  
she doesn't move. she has to have heard him though. she always does. he waits for a quip that never comes. "we have another number, shaw."  
  
"the president can save his own worthless ass this time. the fuck does he have the secret service for, goddamn decoration?"  
  
the emptiness in her snark worries him.  
  
"i can't imagine what you're going through--"  
  
"no, you can't."  
  
"--but I know what it's like. to lose someone you...care about."  
  
shaw pulls the blanket closer to herself. root used to tease her every morning and complain that she had to dig through ten layers of sheets and comforters to get to her sleepy girlfriend. shaw, with her typical morning frown, politely told her to fuck off and that they weren't in the seventh grade.  
  
"partner?"  
  
"i'm not being ellen either."  
  
"sameen!" root would whine, exasperated, but loving.    
  
"you're like. my person."  
  
"oh? _your_ person? how very cro-magnon of you."  
  
"don't be a shit, root." shaw had groaned.  
  
"i love you too, sam." root had replied with shining eyes.  
  
and shaw had grunted in affirmation and had gone back to sleep. it had all been so simple. after years of running and hiding and losing they had this. and it was good.  
  
too good, shaw supposed. nice things, _fragile_ things, had always been too much for her rough hands.  
  
it was some dark cosmic inevitability, she decided. there was nothing she could have done. nothing she could do.  
  
except remember.  
  
"shaw?"  
  
johns obvious concern washed over her in a way that was almost comforting. soothing in the way it made her feel like she was being suffocated by someone else's emotions. it was nice to not have to try to match him. to just exist in the emptiness at the bottom of his ocean of regrets and could-have-been-s.  
  
"i'm tired john. i'm so damn _tired_."  
  
"it's part of the job description." he replied. it was a weak attempt at humor. she appreciated it though.  
  
but not enough. it wasn't enough. she felt her body churning, felt a familiar, age old anger oozing through her. it tightened her throat and pressed hard against her chest.  
  
had it always been this hard to breathe? in her grief she found that she could not remember.  
  
"this was never in the goddamn _job description_. i didn't sign up for this."  
  
"we all knew the risks, shaw."  
  
and shaw sat up then. jerkily, like her muscles could not obey her body. like she was running on two separate operating systems.  
  
_if root, then:_  
  
_if empty, then:_  
  
she ignored him. he didn't understand. other people (not root) never understood.  
  
(root was never People. root was always More.)  
  
"i didn't sign up for some bat shit hacker assassin prophet to come kidnapping and murdering her way into my life. i didn't sign up for her robot bff and her shitty puns and innuendos. and I sure as hell didn't sign up for her to fall in love with me."  
  
shaw looks at him now in disbelief. "she _loved_ me."  
  
john slowly moves into the room. his boots crunch on the beads he assumes shaw had torn down in frustration. the bed creaks with his added weight. "yeah. she did."  
  
"people don't love me john. not like that."  
  
he shrugs. he knows she doesn't want to be placated.  
  
(root was More. root was Special.)  
  
"you said we knew the risks going in. and i thought i did. we've been through hell and back. i thought i'd gone through everything this piece of shit planet could throw at me. shit, i _died_ and walked that off."  
  
john scooted a little closer to her. knocked his leg against hers. "this is different though."  
  
she rested her head against his shoulder. "yeah. it sucks."  
  
that was an understatement. but shaw had reached her emotional capacity that night at the prison under the whirl of police lights and to the sound of riot gear.  
  
they sat quietly for a few moments. it wasn't exactly comfortable, john reflected. despite her lack of physical aggression, he felt that he was invading a space that did not belong to him. and the tension in her body was beginning to cause her to shiver slightly.  
  
he put his arm around her before he could think about it. it was familiar, familial. for a moment, he too wished he was pressed against a ghost.  
  
"i can't..." she began before her throat closed completely.  
  
he said nothing. john waited, trying to maintain deep even breaths for her to subconsciously match.  
  
she failed.  
  
"i don't want to do anything today."  
  
"do you want me to stay?"  
  
"someone has to track down your boy." shaw huffed.  
  
"the machine's still tracing the bug i planted in his glasses."  
  
"some things never change, reese."  
  
he exhaled in a way that shaw knew was a laugh. "should I get bear?"  
  
shaw whistled in response and bear eagerly trotted over to their feet.  
  
haltingly, shaw muttered, "stay if it makes you feel better, i guess."  
  
and john slid to the floor and allowed bear to curl up against shaw's back as she laid back down.  
  
"i'll grab some take out in an hour or so." he offered softly.  
  
"i don't care, john."  
  
he knew she meant it. shaw rarely, if ever, said things she didn't mean.  
  
and shaw mentally began packing things into a box she carefully labeled Feelings.  
  
the pink flush in root's cheeks when they stole a jet for the first time. the power of the motorcycle underneath her as they sped through the empty city streets. the warmth of a shared cigarette and expensive liquor. bite marks and bruises and burns. kisses: angry then curious then tender.  
  
shaw bundled them up in the blanket her father made her as a child and deposited them gently into the box. with a mental flick the box was sealed and pressed into the very darkest corner, where nothing troublesome could eventually grow from it.  
  
like longing or loneliness.  
  
or hope.  
  
and shaw, grateful for the cool emptiness in her head and now hollow heart, finally slept.


End file.
